Bleeding Red
by Marvelnerdperson
Summary: The life of an Avenger is dangerous and Natasha knows that. It's something that's always in the corner of her mind. But when Clint gets injured on a mission...Well, what's she supposed to do?


The few arrows that remained in Clint's quiver rattled as he sat it down by the elevator door. The only other noise in the Avengers Tower was the sound of Clint's footsteps against the expensive marble floor as he moved around the living room. Black bamboo blinds covered the floor to ceiling windows, blocking the glow from the city's neon lights. The only light in the room bled in from a lamp in the adjoining kitchen, casting strange shadows among the designer furniture.

Clint sighed as he ran his hand through his sandy blond hair, flinching when he accidentally touched the welt that dominated the back of his head. He drew his hand back, gaze darkening, when he saw the dark red sheen of blood that coated his hand.

Swearing silently, Clint slipped into the massive, modern kitchen hoping to find a towel or something similar to stanch the blood flow. He had just gotten back from a mission, nothing drastic, just a small group of smugglers that had gotten involved with the wrong people. He wasn't supposed to have been back for a few more days, but his cover was blown. After that, it was a matter of letting S.H.I.E.L.D. know to retrieve him soon and kicking butt.

However, the smugglers didn't like that, so of course, they decided that the best plan of action was to capture and imprison him in an old abandoned warehouse. How cliche is that? A few hours later, Clint was on a helicopter being flown back to the tower and S.H.I.E.L.D. was left to clean up the mess he and the smugglers made, including the totally leveled warehouse.

Clint rummaged through a drawer by the stainless steel sink, grinning in victory when he found a washcloth that hadn't been completely destroyed by the multitude of people using it. He turned around only to be slammed into the counter with a small, petite arm pinned against his throat. "Hey Tasha," he said weakly. God, his head hurt.

"Clint?" She said suspiciously. "I thought you weren't going to be back until Thursday?"

"Well, my cover was blown and it turns out that international smugglers don't like being lied to, so I had to cut it short."

She smiled softly, her piercing emerald green eyes meeting his softer grey-blue ones. "Only you would be able to end a mission four days early because your cover was blown."

"Hey!" Clint retaliated, "For the record, I wasn't the one that blew my cover. It was some newbie field agent."

"I know," Natasha said, removing her arm from Clint's neck and stepping back. "You're not that stupid and even if you did let it slip, the guy you told wouldn't live long enough to tell anyone."

"That is true," Clint said, struggling to nod. The blood loss was starting to get to him.

"Clint?"

The room was spinning. It wasn't supposed to do that. Right?

"Clint, what's wrong?"

"I...Head," he said trying to gesture to the wound while clinging to the counter.

Natasha quickly leaned over him to touch to back of his head. Her face immediately twisted into a scowl when she felt the thick, hot blood that coated the back of his head. "Seriously Clint! You didn't think that this was worth mentioning?"

"I.."

"Come on," she said effectively cutting him off. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Clint groaned as she pulled him up, throwing his arm around her shoulder. He leaned on her as they made their way out of the kitchen and into a hallway that led to her room. "I mean this is dumb even for you!" Natasha said, continuing her rant, "You live with five other people who would be more than glad to help you! Bruce is even a doctor!"

"Sorry," he muttered, resting his head on her shoulder while she opened the door to her room. He inhaled deeply, the scent of her hair surrounding him. It smelled good, like vanilla.

Natasha led him into her room, helping him sit down on her king sized bed before heading to the connecting bathroom to get a first aid kit.

Clint sat there, staring at the black and white bedspread. Tony had personalized each of their rooms and Natasha's had a red, white, and black theme that was present in everything from the dark hardwood floors to the red drapes that covered the windows. However, the most notable feature was the ceiling. It had taken a team of master painters a week to finish the masterpiece and the end result was a truly remarkable portrait of the night sky.

The soft tap of Natasha's bare feet announced her return to her bedroom. She sat the first aid kit by a brightly glowing lamp that rested on a dark table beside the bed. "You know the drill," she said rummaging through the white and red box, "lay down."

Clint managed a slight nod, before he laid down on his stomach. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, taking comfort in the darkness. "This is going to sting," Natasha said. Before Clint had the chance to reply, Natasha pressed a damp washcloth to the back of his head.

Well, Natasha wasn't wrong when she said it would sting. Clint sharply inhaled, his face twisting into a grimace as she gently rubbed his head to clean to wound.

"They really got you good, didn't they," she said, as she dipped the cloth into a bowl of warm water that she had retrieved when she had gotten the first aid kit. She wrung the cloth out, watching as red slowly seeped through the clear liquid.

Clint grunted in response, right before Natasha went back to cleaning to wound. She carefully pushed his hair to the side and wiped away all the blood that was matted on his head.

"Ok, I'm done. I just have to wrap it up, but to do that you're going to have to sit up." Too tired to reply, Clint just lifted his head and started to try to get up.

Natasha sighed and helped pull him up. "Almost there," she said, wrapping snow white bandages around his head. She tucked the end into the rest of the tightly wrapped bandage to secure it.

"There you go, I'm done," she said, taking the first aid kit and the water back to her bathroom.

"Thanks, Tasha," he muttered into a pillow.

"You're welcome," she said, climbing into the bed and curling up next to Clint.

"You're warm," Clint said, wrapping his arms around her.

"Well, that's good to know. Now get some sleep, ok? You need to heal."

"Ok, good night."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

So... It's been a while  
And by a while I mean like six months  
...Sorry

Anyways, please tell me what you think. I would love to have your opinion. Also let me know if you have any ideas for a story, I'd be more than happy to write something for some of you guys!

So read, like, comment, and be merry!

From, Me

Side note: I don't own the Avengers :(


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